too much in the sun
by BirdG
Summary: After a horrible accident, the child is killed and the grieving parent performs a very old bit of blood magic to sacrifice their life for their child's. But things don't work as planned.


Written for the **nextgendarkfest**. **Warnings:** Major character death, infidelity, dub-con, incest

* * *

___Aurors Minnie Thomas, Ian MacDougal, and James Potter were at the hospital between 01:12 and 06:38 and reported nothing suspicious._

Done with medical precision, the still-pink scar in the middle of his chest extended ten inches down his chest, starting at sternum and ending above his navel. Scorpius ran his thumb down the raised skin as he inspected his body for the other scars that he knew weren't there.

He imagined his skin shredded, blood pouring from his wounds as he lay on the cold, hard ground, his eyes searching for help while his hands scrabbled at his chest.

He imagined this despite knowing the truth; that he'd been in pursuit of a subject, that he'd only been hit once from behind, and that his partner had brought him to the hospital immediately after.

That was the official version of events and he had no logical cause to doubt it. Still, he remembered the blood and the terror.

* * *

_Auror J. Potter reported seeing Draco Malfoy enter the hospital at 01:58 and again at 04:02 - they passed each other in the hall. Auror Potter attempted to stop Malfoy to ask questions but instead turned around and went outside for a cigarette._

* * *

Everyone walked on eggshells around him. The Healers had said he should wait a few months before going back into the field so he was stuck on desk duty with the other cast-offs. His partner, the younger Potter, would come around ostensibly to talk about how their cases were progressing. Otherwise, he was left forgotten in his cubicle.

Today, however, he was graced with a visitor for as soon as James left, Rose entered and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

"I did it," she said, smiling brightly at him.

"You did," he repeated, eyeing her unusual dress. With her hair covered by a scarf and wearing a trenchcoat, she looked like she stepped out of a Muggle spy movie.

"I did." She slipped out of her coat - revealing to a both relieved and disappointed Scorpius that she was still dressed. Before he could ask what exactly it was that she had done, she removed the scarf as well.

Her hair, once a bushy nondescript brown, had been dyed darker and tamed so it now fell in smooth waves about her shoulders.

"The color is easy enough that I can do it myself but the straightening process is much more complicated as it's semi-permanent. It's also very expensive so if you like this you'll be paying for the upkeep." The words rushed out of her mouth and her fingers nervously toyed with a few strands before she caught herself.

Scorpius didn't realize he'd been silent that long until she finally blurted, "Please say something."

"You look stunning. You do," he said, standing so he could take her in his arms. Though he felt unkind for just thinking it, it was a great improvement. She was a beautiful witch - tall and tanned with a great body and bright blue eyes. Yet, for whatever reason, she never took advantage of it. She hid her body under the same dumpy clothes she'd worn as a Hogwarts student, she never used glamors or make-up, and the most she did with her hair was wear it up in a bun or a ponytail.

She's beautiful without all that, he thought fiercely. And for a moment he truly believed it. He was lucky to have someone like her, she was kind and clever and loyal and loved him despite everything. It certainly wasn't her fault that he was so unhappy.

"Do you like it?," he asked, brushing back a few silken strands to look into her eyes. "That's what matters."

Flushing, she looked away. Rose was confident when it came to her intelligence or her athletic ability, her looks were the one area where she remained self-conscious. "I think so. Yeah. The color will take some getting used to but the stylist said it brings out my eyes."

He told her it did and she grinned, shrugging as she said. "Then I might keep it."

* * *

_The body showed signs of bruising on both wrists and ankles that is consistent with having been bound._

* * *

"Ah, Scorpius, I didn't expect to see you here."

Cocking his head, he attempted a smile. "Really? What did you expect?"

As Nott was too clever not to get what he was suggesting, Scorpius had to assume that the other man simply did not care. That rankled.

"Your mother." There was something in his grin that made Scorpius want to smash his face under his heel. "We have a business proposition to discuss."

"What sort of business proposition would that be?"

Nott didn't answer immediately, instead gazing intently at an antique vase before him. Scorpius wondered for a moment if the weedy fuck was actually ignoring him when he realized that the other man saw this as a game. He bit down the urge to repeat the question and waited. This was an interrogation and he would let Nott fill the silence.

And eventually he did. Taking a seat on the settee opposite Scorpius, he fixed him with those pale green eyes of his and said with perfect seriousness, "I don't think you realize how difficult it's been for your mother since your father's death."

"I can imagine."

"Yes," he drawled, without shame. "Running the business, not just the apothecaries but managing this estate and the various investments such as the Quidditch clubs and the Prophet, it's quite an undertaking. Too much for one person alone."

"And you intend to help?"

"Astoria intends for me to help," he answered softly.

Scorpius stared and for the first time, saw Theodore Nott clearly. He was a pale imitation of the real thing, a grasping never-was that saw his opportunity, a pretender to the throne. Nott was intelligent, that was certain, but not intelligent enough. Not in the way that counts. He hadn't distinguished himself while serving under the Dark Lord nor had he done so after the war. Washed-out with dishwater blonde hair and a thin yet flabby build, it was as if he was faded and distorted photograph of the man he sought to replace. He certainly didn't have the ambition or charisma of his predecessor.

All this time he had assumed Nott was a friend or, at the very least, not a foe but he had been mistaken. Nott was the figurative snake in the grass, just waiting for his chance to strike.

He glanced up to see his mother standing at the top of the stairs. Scorpius walked over to her, his shoulder brushing against Nott's as he passed and he said softly to the other man, "I'll wait until I hear her say that."

The strained look that marred her face gave away to a smile as he approached. He kissed her cheek and was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to take her into his arms and never let her go.

"Will you join me for supper?"

Scorpius glanced over to Nott and looked back at his mother in time to catch the frown she wore. That she cared enough to even consider Nott's feelings told Scorpius this had gone too far. "I will."

* * *

_No defensive wounds were found. _

* * *

There had been two women in his dreams last night and neither of them had been his fiancee.

While it was unusual, it had happened before. He was an adult with the normal urges and wasn't the type to be alarmed. What was strange was that both had felt more like he was reliving things that had happened before than creating these images new.

He could remember the fear and exhilaration of lying there, unwilling or unable to move, as she pulled off his trousers. Despite the burning shame, he had wanted it when she grasped his cock and made him hard with just a few quick strokes. When she sunk down on him, he moaned loudly, canting his hips for more. He had come on his back, her hand around his throat, her hooded dark gray eyes on his as she cooed lewd nothings to him.

He remembered her sitting on his lap, her arse pressed against him. They were in a dark club, it was just a couple hours before dawn and the club was still crowded. She didn't seem to care, however. Maybe she even liked having an audience as he kissed her neck and palmed her breast while she bucked against him. He had whispered as much in her ear. Turning her chin towards him as he kissed her, he had seen the hunger in her glazed green eyes and had promised he would have the entire club fuck her if that's what she wanted.

But she hadn't really wanted that. Their faces merged and morphed in his mind but Scorpius knew that just as he shouldn't push the first woman for fear of her reaction, he had to protect the second one because she wasn't in control. He could only go so far with either. And now, even if he closed his eyes and tried, he couldn't remember either of their faces.

Or maybe he didn't want to.

Scorpius washed his hands in the sink before returning to his desk.  
_  
_

* * *

_Draco Malfoy's wand showed no sign of defensive spells being used or of having Deletrius performed._

* * *

In his defense, he'd had a wretched past two days.

Casting the necessary spells, Scorpius made certain he was hidden from view, creating an illusion of an empty forest for anyone who came near. All the while his hands shook and his mind raced.

It had begun with a row with Rose. She had been unhappy about so many things; accusing him of being too critical, too distant, of not caring about their future. Scorpius had been beyond hurt, he'd been furious. It had seemed - it still seemed - so selfish to ask for more when his entire world had been turned upside down.

But Rose had always been selfish and demanding. He had never noticed it before, he didn't know how he had missed it before, but it was so clear now. She, like the rest of her family, thought she was entitled to the world.

Scorpius flicked his wand again, whispering the words that would reveal what he was looking for in soft blue lights. Blood spatter was a curious thing, both predictable and not. The trail on the ground he had guessed at correctly and even the angle he had expected but still the spell revealed blood and viscera far from where he would have thought to look.

After that argument and the sleepless night that had followed - the sleepless nights that were now becoming common - he'd had his second row with James. Drunk on cheap ale and his own importance, Potter had hung on him at the pub, insisting that they were mates and prattling on about anything that crossed his tiny mind. Scorpius had managed to avoid him for part of the evening but not for long.

He burned away the evidence, careful to replace the grass and bark he had destroyed.

Perhaps it had been his own guilt at suggesting that Scorpius be kept on desk duty for a while longer, or his fear that Scorpius would find out, Potter had followed him into the alley when he had tried to slip out. Too drunk to defend himself, Scorpius had easily pinned him against the wall.

It had been fun, watching the fear and desire in Potter's eyes as Scorpius groped at his erection and whispered about all the times he'd caught Potter staring in the showers. Potter had bit his lip, possibly to keep from moaning, as Scorpius stroked him and asked him how often he had pictured this very moment. What he surely hadn't expected was that it would end with Scorpius telling him that he knew Potter had gone behind his back to his daddy to make sure Scorpius was sidelined. Potter had come in his pants and Scorpius had wiped his hands on the other man's shirt before telling him to mind his own fucking business.

Scorpius picked up the flat stone, so clean and bone white despite being left in the damp dirt. Transfiguration had always been his best subject.

Drawing near to the lake, he tossed away what remained of Theodore Nott.

* * *

_The last spell performed by his wand was the Imperius Curse as used on Auror J. Potter._

* * *

She was beautiful, her dark hair spread over the pillow, her skin pale in the moonlight. As always, just being in her presence had soothed all his fears and even the voice in his mind screaming against this had gone quiet.

He had intended to watch a bit longer, to memorize the way her hands slid over her silk-covered breast and how the hemline of her slip had slid up her thighs as she moved on the bed. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to draw it out, savor it.

Her hand stilled over her breast and she turned to look at him, her green eyes glazed over with lust and something more. He walked over to her and she sat up, for a moment looking as if she was going to draw in on herself but then turning to stand and face him.

"You shouldn't have done it."

She looked at him with a sadness that seemed to pull his heart from his chest. He kissed her cheek softly as he done so many times before, loving the scent of her and the shaky breath she drew. Brushing back her long hair, he kissed her neck and shoulder, pulling down one strap of her slip as he did.

"Tell me to leave," he whispered in her ear.

She turned her head, her muscles tightening in her shoulders, and her chest rising and falling as she gasped for air.

"Tell me to leave and I will," Scorpius repeated, pulling down the other strap. Her eyes fluttered shut as he placed open-mouth kisses up her neck to her jaw, waiting, watching as she leaned into his touch before finally brushing his lips against hers. She gave a small whimper as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers. Tugging the silk slip down her body, he watched the last of her shame and resolve fall with it.

And he wanted to believe it wasn't just the potion he slipped into her wine that explained the way she pulled at his clothes nor how she spread her legs, gasping as his fingers slid between her already-slick folds.

"You're so much like him," Astoria said, running her fingers through his blond hair as he suckled at her breast. Scorpius settled between her splayed thighs, kissing the spot just over her heart.

"Pretend I am him," he answered with his first thrust.

* * *

_Examination of the vertical incision in the center of the torso has determined it was made using a scalpel rather than a wand._

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to reconsider?" Auror Potter looked at him owlishly through his glasses and Scorpius almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Clearly, he hadn't spoken to his son or goddaughter because if he had done so, he would be demanding his resignation instead of arguing.

This was quite possibly the sanest thing he'd done in the past week short of swallowing a Forgetfulness Potion.

"I've already cleaned out my cubicle."  
_  
_

* * *

_The heart showed signs of traumatic injury, with the great vessels and a portion of the left atrium transected._

* * *

He had expected that she would contact him, he hadn't expected that she would stalk him to do so. Just before he let himself into his flat, his mother appeared behind him. Her dark hair pulled back into some complicated style and wearing robes from some French designer she favored, she looked as if she were on her way to a business meeting.

"We need to talk," she said simply, her eyes meeting his for a moment before flitting away.

That was enough to take the fight out of him. He pushed the door open. "Fine."

She didn't sit nor did she wait for him to do so. "You need to know about what happened the night your father died."

He didn't move as she told him the full story: that he had died that night, that the curse had killed him, and that his father had gone to extraordinary lengths to undo that.

Her voice was steady and his gaze remained on him as she spoke. The only signs of distress she gave being the way she fisted her hands at her side. "The Ministry agreed to keep it under wraps lest some other grieving parent get similar ideas. They wanted to speak with Theodore, likely to find out how he had come across that bit of blood magic and put him back in Azkaban."

For a moment it looked as if she might ask about the whereabouts of the man who had killed her husband but then thought better of it.

"He said - Theodore said that it wasn't unusual for the patient to take on characteristics of the deceased," her voice broke with the last word. "It so common that Muggles experience it as well. They have a term for it even - cellular memory."

* * *

_Scorpius Malfoy showed similar trauma - vertical incision, cracked sternum, and lacerations to his great vessels and part of his left atrium._

* * *

It had taken a few weeks of cajoling and pleading but eventually she had come back to him. Laying in his arms, the expensive clothing he'd bought for her during their Parisian holiday strewn about the room, she sighed contentedly.

"I have to admit, I'm glad you left the Aurors," Rose confessed. "After what happened, it drove me crazy to think of you working there. I don't know how my mum and aunt can stand it."

He kissed her head and she clung to him in return.

She looked up at him, resting her head on his chest and smiling. "How is the new job working out?"

"It's great actually. Different but I think I'm getting the hang of it."

Her grin brightened with these words. "Well, I'm sure you have a good teacher."

"The best." Not long after his mother had told him the truth, he had moved back into the manor and joined her in managing the estates and various investments under the Malfoy name. On the day he returned to his childhood home, she had insisted that theirs could be the relationship between a mother and son, between two co-workers and two friends but nothing more. What had happened between would not happen again.

As he would soon find, she would say that every time but always with a little less conviction than the last.

"You should come work with me," he said, drawing circles on her back with his fingers and enjoying the softness of her hair as it brushed against his skin. "Between your experience running the shop in Hogsmeade and your Potions knowledge, you'd be an asset."

She laughed at this. "I'm going to be moving into the manor after the wedding. Don't you think it's a bit much to start work together too? Even if you don't get tired of me, I'm sure your mother will."

"Nonsense. She likes you." She always had and, as far as Scorpius knew it was still true. "Besides, think of how nice it will be for me to be with my two favorite witches every day."

Rose rolled her eyes and he smirked in triumph as she said, "I'll think about it."  
_  
_

* * *

_Cause Of Death: Undetermined._

* * *

King:  
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son—  
Hamlet:  
A little more than kin, and less than kind.  
King:  
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?  
Hamlet:  
Not so, my lord, I am too much in the sun.  
Hamlet Act 1, scene 2, 64–67


End file.
